


Teach Me How To Kiss Your Jagged Angles

by zombified_queer



Category: Smile For Me (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Body Horror, Collage ending, Flashbacks, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Post-Canon, Reconciliation, alcohol use
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-27
Updated: 2019-08-27
Packaged: 2020-09-27 16:40:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,072
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20410951
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zombified_queer/pseuds/zombified_queer
Summary: Sure, they were divorced. Sure, Martin was still mad. Sure, it was crazy to try and rescue Parsley from some crazy wellness retreat in the mountains. But if Martin didn't do it, who would?





	Teach Me How To Kiss Your Jagged Angles

Lightning arced across the sky, illuminating everything as sickly and green. This stretch of highway outside of town always felt barren to Martin, like the beginning of some great apocalypse. Thunder, right on the heels of the lightning, promising rain. 

Martin gripped the steering wheel tighter, fingers going numb as he replayed the conversation with Jimothan.

_"Parsley..." Jimothan had the nerve to look wounded. "He didn't come back."_

Another flash of lightning. Martin could see the way his knuckles went white from his death grip. Of course Parsley wouldn't want to leave some cult in the mountains when Jimothan was always pushing him toward some hypermasculine ideal.

Martin wondered if he had something to do with it too.

Granted, he'd never been a perfect husband, but neither was Parsley. There'd been too many late nights at the office, too many dinners cancelled or grown cold. It was unsustainable for both of them.

The first drops of rain splattered against the windshield. Martin swore under his breath and tried not to dwell on the hundreds of ways Parsley could be injured. He turned up the radio and tamped down the thousand different scenarios that ended with Parsley dead. 

Lightning illuminated a figure stumbling down the highway.

Martin swore again and hit the breaks. He pulled over, too sharply, and watched the figure stagger in the dark.

Another flash of light. The rain drummed more insistently. Martin recognized that figure, dishevelled as it was.

Martin got out of the car and yelled against the storm, "Parsley!"

The figure turned. When the sky lit up again, Martin could only stare. Words failed him, sticking in his throat.

Parsley's head was a plate. Or, at least Martin thought it was Parsley. Now he wasn't sure. He knew the body, but the head looked too alien.

The figure staggered toward Martin, who backed up until the driver side door prevented him from shying away any more. It would be so easy to open the car door, slide into the seat, turn the key in the ignition, and speed off to look for Parsley. His Parsley.

"Martin!" The figure stopped. "Awful weather, huh?"

That voice erased Martin's doubts but cemented his disgust. That thing _was_ his Parsley. That monstrous thing in the middle of the road was the man he'd given years of his life to. 

Martin lowered his stare. It felt cowardly. "Get in."

"What?"

"Get in the car," Martin repeated, raising his voice with every word. "Get in the fucking car!"

Martin heard it (him?) shuffle past, the car door open, then close. And Martin stood in the rain, letting the chill seep into his bones. A stray drop followed the nape of his neck.

_Parsley's fingers always dripped down the back of Martin's neck on those nights while they kissed. It was always cheap wine, like they were back in college, since that liquor store was always open after Parsley got off work._

But dwelling wouldn't do either of them any good right now. Martin exhaled a breath he didn't even notice he'd been holding. The air smelled like copper and electricity. 

Martin got back into his car and tried not to gag. This figure reeked of mildewed meat and dying chlorophyll. It would be rude to gag so Parsley (Was it really him?) could hear, even if they were divorced.

Martin turned the car around. He sped through the dark, too fast for this weather. He didn't realize he'd been doing it until he came to the first stoplight. 

He'd been speeding because he was afraid. He feared this thing in the seat next to him, this stranger who had replaced the man Martin loved. 

Martin drove in circles, mentally debating what to do. Glancing over, he recognized those hands, the body under that suit. This was absolutely the body Martin devoted years to, the body that'd laid next to him all those nights.

_He'd been staring at the alarm clock, which announced in a green glow that it was going on four in the morning. Martin could hear Parsley's breathing, even and slow and so comfortable. And yet Martin wondered who was going to get the house in the divorce._

"You can just drop me off at my mom's."

Martin blinked. It (he?) had spoken. There was no way Martin could find a mouth under the rot on the plate. 

Something sloughed off and landed with a wet _slap_ in Parsley's lap. He (it?) didn't seem the least bit bothered by falling apart.

"Dammit." Parsley opened the glovebox for the spare napkins. Only Parsley would have known where to find them and so quickly. "Sorry, Martin. I ruined this too, huh?"

"Parsley..." But what more could he say? He really did blame Parsley for everything that's soured between them. "I'm taking you home with me."

"Martin, don't do that."

"No, Parsley, I'm sorry." Martin turned off the main road. From here, it was all side streets to the house they used to share. "I did blame you. And maybe I still do..."

Parsley's fingers began shredding that napkin in his lap nervously. Another piece of him fell into his lap, coating Parsley's fingers in slime. 

"But I felt nothing but rage when Jimothan told me he'd just left you there," Martin finished. He pulled into the driveway, parked, turned off the engine. "I might still be upset with you, Parsley, but that doesn't mean everyone in your life gets to just abandon you."

They sat quietly for a long while. Thunder rumbled, shaking the sky above them. The rain drummed on the roof of the car. 

"We're both soaked," Martin noted. He reached out, hesitated, then took one of Parsley's hands in his own. "The spare key's in the same place, you know."

"Martin, that's unsafe."

"I guess I wanted you to come by." Martin shrugged. 

Parsley seemed to stare at Martin. He stared at Parsley, trying to discern a mouth under the decay. How would he kiss Parsley if he stayed like this? 

Martin's chest tightened at that thought. What if Parsley stayed like this? Was he in pain? What would other people think?

"Martin?"

"Hmm?" Martin kept watching, waiting to see what moved on Parsley's plate-head. 

"You didn't have to-"

"I did." Martin insisted, his grip on Parsley's hand tightening. 

Parsley leaned in. Martin closed his eyes, breathed through his mouth, and he thought it was something adjacent to a kiss.


End file.
